White Knight
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: He can't bear the thought of her getting hurt. Not for him.
1. Prolouge

A/N I apologize for this, I really should be typing up the last bit of Watchdog, but this has been bugging me to write it for ages. And now that I finally have a plot for it, I must write it, it won't let me write anything else! Ignore what author alerts tell you, it took me writing this to get a title for it, but it now has one.

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The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. Something was very wrong. He had known it from the start, from the time she had shown up he had known something was wrong. He knew she wouldn't keep her promise not to come here so he had waited until she had turned the corner of his street to get into his own car and follow her.

He'd called Bug and Nigel from the car, telling them to call Framus, or Santana, or whoever it was on duty and tell them to get their ass down here. There was something eerie and foreboding about the whole area. The late night fog didn't add to the areas aurora either.

He got out of his car, suppressing a shiver, both from the late fall cold and the general creepiness of the place. It felt like something out of a bad horror film, here he was, was he the good guy, or was he going to be the hapless victim? The one who rushes in despite the audience telling him not to only to get killed?

It didn't matter, she was here, her battered old El Camino was parked next to him, and she wasn't in it. He couldn't let anything happen to her. He tried to protect her from everything under normal circumstances, but that she was here because of him...he refused to let her get hurt because of him, because of something he had done, because he had been an idiot.

And she was in her "damn the world" mood, she wouldn't be thinking clearly. She was in that not caring, who gives a damn if I get hurt mood. But he gave a damn, he was no Rhett Butler, he cared, he couldn't stand to see her get hurt. She was already hurt enough emotionally, he couldn't bear to see her hurt physically.

He climbed the metal stairs to the door, keeping a steadying hand on the railing to not slip on the wet surface. He stood outside the door, not wanting to go in and risk getting her hurt. He couldn't bear to think about her getting hurt because of him, she was already risking her life for him.

He usually wrote off bad feelings as just being nervous, superstitious, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to go down in there, he just hoped it was whoever it was that she had chased down here. A gunshot rang out and he all but dove through the door. "Jordan!" He called into the silence, praying to every deity he could think of that she was alright.


	2. A Very Bad Feeling

A/N-if you get where Bill McCai is from, I love you forever. I forgot to mention I don't own them, which I don't. I don't know whether or not to call this the prologue as this is kinda out-of-order the way I'm writing it...but anyway, enjoy it!

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She had shown up in his apartment with a bag of Chinese and a case of beer, never a good sign. The look on her face told him all he needed to hear. She looked broken, hollow. He suppressed the feeling inside him that made him want to gloat, and instead he put a consoling arm around her shoulders. He was her shoulder to cry on, the only stable thing in her life, the one who had seen her at her absolute lowest and always been there for her, and right now she needed him.

It had taken them all the way through dinner and her cracking open her third bottle of Guinness for her to finally tell him what it was that was bugging her. "Just say it, get out with it." He finally all but ordered her, sick of watching her push her food around her plate, looking thoroughly defeated and not telling him exactly what it was. He knew what it was, he had sensed it from the second she walked in, but he was here to comfort her.

"He kicked me out. Told me he never wanted to see me again. Just told me to leave, never come back. Said we were through." She sounded so small, so childlike, so on the verge of breaking down. He had seen what the man in question had done to her, how for the past four years they had danced around each other, and he knew that her heart had long since belonged to the younger man.

He had accepted it, and moved on, there were some defeats that one must admit, and that had been one of them. But now he felt the urge to tear the boy limb from limb. The bullet may not have been deadly, but he could be. The boy had hurt her, hurt her more than the detective probably knew, but then again, he had known the detective for four years and he knew that beneath the innocent farm-boy facade that the young man inside was really actually smart, cunning, he had no doubt that the boy knew exactly what was going to happen, the effect his words would have.

And now here he was, the one who was holding her close, the one who was allowing her to break down all her defenses and let her just sit there, sobbing in his arms. He had always been the one to comfort her, her relationship with her father was rocky at it's best, he was the one stable thing in her life, he was the one that took her as she was, thorns and all, the one that had stood by her. The only one to have seen her at her absolute worst, he was the one that she turned to.

He couldn't count the number of times she'd shown up in the decade plus he had known her. Bad breakups, cases that got under her skin, every time she faced another ordeal with her mother, he was the one she could count on, every time she needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, he was it. She had shown up on his doorstep with her customary bag of Chinese and case of beer and they ate, her being the wall for her to bounce all her problems off of.

He didn't mind, he never minded. He was happy to be that person for her, lord knew that she needed someone like him, she needed something steady, an anchor. She had him, and up until tonight, she had Woody. But that boy had gone and done the one thing that she was most afraid of. He had done the thing that had kept her from ever wanting a relationship, he left her.

Not in a physical sense, the boy wasn't about to get up and leave any time in the near future, and he half hoped it would stay that way. The young man had hurt her, and while he was never much of a believer in karma, what goes around does come around. If karma didn't get to the young detective, he would. Never had she been affected like this, he'd seen her go through some rough patches, but she looked as if her soul had been torn from her body. Not her soul, he knew that, but her heart.

"I can't do it Garret. Everything going on, it's too much. The mourge's a wreck with Slokum running the place, he's so busy playing by his double standard that because we can't do something, he's entitled to and walking with his head up his ass that even going to work is becoming something that I'm beginning to despise, and now I don't even have Woody to turn to." He sat there, rubbing a consoling arm around her.

"Things'll work out." He told her, hoping that they would. Even if it meant that she and Woody were together, at least she'd be happy with it. "They can't keep me away from there forever, I'll be back soon enough, Slokum will be gone, everything will be OK." She looked up at him, a smile on her face. He knew that look and didn't like it, it was the look she had whenever she had a plan.

"I completely forgot about what I was originally planning to come over here to tell you." She said, getting up and running down to her car and back. She returned a minute later with a folder in hand.

"What's that?" She flipped it over so that it was right-side up.

"The murder of Bill McCai." She said, handing him the file. He skimmed through it, reading what had been written.

"Says here cause of death was a suicide, that he hung himself." She grinned her self-righteous grin.

"And look who said it was that." He read the name Jack Slokum tagged to the bottom.

"He's got a fractured neck, reticular hemorrhaging, build up of fluid in the lungs, everything suggests a hanging." She pointed out something else.

"How about a blow to the head?" She pointed to where that had been noted in a different hand he recognized as one of the lab techs in charge of X-rays. It suggested the possibility of foul play.

"He could have banged it when he was swinging."

"It was pre-mortem, the fractured spinal cord would have killed him, besides he was found in the middle of nowhere. Nothing to bang himself into. Slokum didn't want anyone to realize this was murder." He looked at her, hard. He knew that once she got an idea in her head it was all but impossible to shake her off of it, but he could try, couldn't he.

"Do you honestly think Slokum capable of murder?" She thought about it.

"No." She admitted. The man was a vermin, a cretin, a worm, but a murderer he was not. He'd be too afraid of getting his hands dirty. Besides, being in a jail cell limited one's personal advancement. "But he is capable of covering it up. If we prove that Slokum's the one really behind this, then he's out and you're back in."

"Who's this we kemosabe?" He asked and she grinned.

"What, you don't want your job back?"

"I do, but there are other ways to do that." She grinned at him. He didn't like the way that she was throwing herself into championing his cause, but if it got her mind off of Woody, so much the better. She curled against him, never knowing what her touch did to him. To her, he was just the gruff man with the heart of gold who had been her best friend for a decade. Never anything more, simply friends.

He was content to let it be that way, he didn't want to risk ruining what they had with awkwardness between them, he didn't care if it ever progressed into what only existed in his mind, it didn't matter to him if it did or didn't, so long as she was happy. They sat like that for a long time, a mindless ball game on TV, the Patriots were, for once, getting completely slaughtered by Dallas, a surprising outcome for sure, but he wasn't paying much attention to Tom Brady's defense falling down around him.

She looked up at him, and her gold color eyes had regained much of their usual vigor. She still looked broken, shattered, but she was putting herself back together again, piece by piece. He met her gaze, and it felt like such a tender moment, a right moment, the perfect moment to just lean in and claim those lips for his own...

He had no sooner bent his head to meet hers than the sharp shrill tone of her phone broke the moment. "Cavanaugh." She answered upon not recognizing the number. "Really? Right." She grabbed the folder off of his cocktail table along with a pen and scrawled an address down on a blank sheet left inside. "Who is this?" She asked, but the other end of the line went dead.

He looked at her, wondering what had interrupted what could have been his moment, his moment where he rescued her from the evil throes of heartache after what she had thought to be her one true love had rejected her. His moment when he could show her that he was the one that she could trust to pick up the pieces. "Who was it?" She shook her head.

"I don't know, but they said they have information about what Slokum's covering up." He gave her a long hard look, he didn't like where this was going. He had a very bad feeling about this, something somewhere deep inside of him was telling him that this was a horrible idea.

"Don't chase them down." He told her and she looked up at him. "It's just I have a bad feeling about this. You look like hell, you need to get some sleep, not go out on a wild goose chase." He tried to downplay his fear, his concern. She smiled.

"Who said it was a wild goose chase? Slokum's hiding something. He's covering for someone, but who and why still need to be answered. There was a stray print, Nigel said he was going to try to match it under the Slokum radar, don't you want to get your job back?" He nodded.

"Jordan, just go home and get some rest, and promise me you'll save this until tomorrow." She looked up at him. "You've been through enough today. I'm not kidding when I say you look like hell, you don't need anything else troubling you." He saw a gleam in her eyes and glared at her again. "Do I have to drive you home and lock you into your own apartment?" She grinned.

"Fine, I promise that I won't do anything stupid." He smiled, knowing that this had crawled under her skin and that she was going to go through it.

"At the very least bring Framus or Santana with you." She frowned. He had avoided the word detective with good reason. She didn't need any more reminders of what the bastard had done to her.

"I'm not going to go." She said, and he gave a snort of laughter. But she made no move to get up from where she was, instead sat with her head against him for a long while, watching as her beloved football team found themselves getting beaten to a bloody pulp.

There was something that worried him about this case, something that didn't feel right. He had seen the address she had scrawled down, it was a warehouse by the docks. Who would want to meet there? It was a secluded spot, far far away from where anyone would be at this hour of the night. He repressed the thought, he didn't want to think about her getting hurt.

Instead he focused on the woman next to him, the one who was here because she needed him, he was the one steady thing, the ballast for her ship lost at sea. He wouldn't even pretend to himself that he was her anchor, but he was the thing that kept her from completely capsizing. She needed him to be her friend, to be the one to lean on, to bounce her crazy theories off of.

It was, he knew, why she was so eager to pursue anything that could prove Slokum wrong, anything to bring the rat out of his office, to bring him back. He was touched at the way she cared, the way that after all she had been through he was the only thing that she had that was a steady, a constant in an every changing equation.

He just wished that she would realize that, that he was the one that had taken her for who she was and didn't care, the one who had seen her at her best and her worst, the one that she could turn to no matter what, and he wished that she would just put all thoughts of the farm boy who had broken her heart out of her mind, and find someone else. Preferably what was right under her nose, at the moment, quite literally.

The game had long since ended and Jay Leno had just begun his monologue when she unfurled from around him. "I should get going." She said. "Thanks. You're the last person left I can trust." He grinned.

"Always here." He told her. "Always glad to help." She grinned. He meant it though, anything to make her happy. "If you want me to tear him limb from limb, just give me a call." He said, grinning to hide the fact that he really did mean it. She laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind." She said, walking to the door. She gave him a peck on the cheek that left him wanting more, and he watched her pull away, heading not in the direction of her own house, but in the opposite direction, close to the docks. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.


	3. Shots in the Night

A/N I love cliffhangers. This whole thing started as a cliffhanger running through my mind, something that I had actually come up with long long long time ago when the two characters involved were not Garret and Jordan but rather Remington Steele and Laura Holt, and it's been bugging me to write it as Garret and Jordan since I started writing CJ fanfic, and now it's finally reached it's manifestation. I am half tempted to say "no more" until I get a review on it though, but I'm not that mean. Or am I?

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He got up gingerly, looking around him. "Look darling," He heard an unfamiliar voice call out. "We've got company. Now why don't both of you show yourselves?" The voice was calling from across the building. "Just come out my pretty and this will all be alright." He breathed a sigh of relief.

She was OK, the shot had missed. He snuck through the rows of shelves and boxes, looking for either her or whoever this loony was. He just hoped he would find her, and the two of them would get out of there, wait for the detectives to show up, and get this guy, whoever he was.

"It sounds like he's your night in shining armor, the way he called for you. Is that who he is? Is he the one that's here to save you? I've got a message for you, whoever you are, you won't. I've got her, she's mine, all mine. I can't let her go around convicting me of murder, so you can go and leave, and I can kill her, and no one will be none the wiser. A poor woman winds up dead in a shady factory, what was she doing down here anyway? Ah, they'll be so many unanswered questions, but no one will find out it's me."

Whoever this guy was, he was a psychopath. He just wanted to make sure that this loon wouldn't hurt Jordan. That was his only thought, getting her out of there unharmed. He was thankful the first pair of shoes near the door had been his sneakers, at least they were quieter than his usual pair. He searched through the racks for the familiar head of chestnut hair, hoping he would find her before the madman would.

He was so concerned with looking for her, he didn't notice when she backed into him. He stifled a yelp when he saw her thankful that she was unharmed. "Get out of here." he told her and she shook her head.

"He's covering the exit." He frowned.

"I'll distract him, you leave." She shook her head.

"I'm not going to leave without you." He glared at her.

"How many times have I been in a similar spot?"

"Too many." She smiled. Every time she did something like this, he knew that his heart stopped until she came out of it OK. She had put herself into so many dangerous positions before, been faced with guns at her head so many times, and every time he was scared stiff. They heard footsteps approaching. "Run." he told her, and she looked back at him, but he glared at her and she disappeared down one aisle and he walked down to the next intersection.

He tried to put as much distance between himself and Jordan as possible. "Don't think I didn't hear you two. I think its sweet that your white knight wants you to get out of here alive, but it's not going to happen. If I have to kill both of you, what does it matter? If they find out I killed Bill I'd be serving life anyway, so what do another two sentences matter? Although I'd like to end this with as little bloodshed as possible." The words sent shivers down his spine.

Remorseless killers scared him most of all. The ones who already saw their end and knew it was not good so they decided to take everyone down with them. They didn't care, they could not be talked out of what they did, and that scared him, they were people that couldn't be reasoned with. Emotional killers, those in crimes of passion, they could be stopped, talked out of doing what they did, but men like this one, they weren't going to give up.

He turned another corner to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Hello, you must be her white knight." The man looked vaguely familiar. Very much like Slokum, but different. It took him a minute to realize what exactly this man was.

"Slokum's covering for you." He pointed out and the man gave a shrill laugh, an unnatural laugh as he jammed the gun into his back, forcing him to walk.

"Jack? He's an idiot, I don't know how he got to where he did. He only cares about himself and his job, but yet he was willing to cover for me. I told him it didn't matter, that no one would find out, but he was convinced that the beautiful Dr. Cavanuagh would find out. So when he called me out a random fit of brotherly love saying she had suspected something, I knew I had to kill her." they had reached a clearing in the middle of the warehouse. "Now, drop to your knees, hands on your head, just like that." He obliged, trying to not get himself shot.

He wouldn't be any help to her dead, he knew that, he couldn't get her out of there, play the white knight as this guy had dubbed him, if he was dead. "Now, Dr. Cavanaugh, come on out. Olly olly oxen free and all that good stuff. Show yourself."

"Jordan! Just leave!" He shouted into the emptiness and again he heard a shrill laugh.

"No, Dr. Cavanaugh, don't. If you don't come out in the next two minutes your white knight will become very much a red one." He had long ago felt his stomach drop away, and the urge to vomit had long since passed, right now he was running on pure fear.

It wasn't the best feeling for someone who had come in to play the hero, to be her knight in shining armor, to feel completely and utterly afraid for his life, and for hers. But hers mattered more to him, she was still young, she still had a life to live, she still had a chance at love even if Woody didn't want her. He doubted the detective would be doing what he was doing anyway if he was here. "Jordan, just run. I've already called for Framus or Santana to come, just leave."

He felt a new wave of fear as the gun rang out it's sharp report and he felt the bullet go wide. "Next shot will be your head, White Knight." The man walked behind him, pressing the gun barrel to the back of his neck and he fought back a yelp as the burning hot metal pressed against him. "Now c'mon Dr. Cavanaugh, are you selfish enough to let this man die because you were foolish enough to come here?"

He fought back a groan as she appeared from around a corner, hands raised. "I told you run." He told her and he could see the determination in her eyes.

"And I said not without you. I'm supposed to be the foolish one that puts her life on the line, not you." He glared at her, and the gunman laughed.

"How sweet. But I'm afraid I'll have to kill you both now though. But this could be oh so entertaining. First off, down on your knees please, Dr. Cavanaugh, just like your White Knight here." She mimicked his pose, kneeling down with her hands interlaced behind her head. "Now, who should I kill first?"

For the first time he could see the fear in her eyes. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her things were going to be alright, but he couldn't. He remembered the time that they had been trapped in the building with the mad bomber. He was one that had gone off the deep end with a crime of passion. He could be reasoned with. And she hadn't been there, she had been safe.

He had no qualms about putting his life on the line. He would do it for anyone at the mourge, but especially her. He would sacrifice everything for her, and she would never know quite how much he would give up for her. And it was so much the better. The less she knew the less she could hurt him. The closest he had come was when he had almost been blown to bits, the words were there, he was going to say them, but she had cut him off. Had she been afraid to hear them, or did she already know?

The gun barrel was finally removed from his neck and he knew it had burned a mark, but it was just another scar, it wouldn't matter much once he was dead. No, he had to stop thinking that way, they needed to get out of there, she needed to get out of there, whether or not he did as well didn't matter, so long as she got out of there. But he didn't want to do anything crazy, do something that would cause him to shoot her instead of him.

"I want to shoot you first Dr. Cavanaugh, but I had planned to do this with as little suffering as possible, and I don't know if your White Knight could take it, seeing you die. Could you?" He felt the strong, crazy dark eyes boring into him and he nodded.

"Am I right, or what, say it. Say you can't stand to see her die in front of you, you know you want to." The man had a manic edge to his voice. Was he just imagining things or did he hear sirens in the distance? "Say it, or I shoot her now."

"I couldn't, I can't, stand to see her die." He said, his voice sounding raw with fear, it wasn't his own voice, it sounded strange and foreign, the whole world felt strange and foreign the, only thing that in his mind was nagging voice of self preservation and the voice drowning that one out telling him to save her.

"Good thing you're kneeling then." The gunman pulled the trigger and he felt his heart drop out from underneath him, his whole world rock as the sound echoed throughout the cold stone walls.


	4. There Shouldn't Be Blood

A/N You honestly didn't think I'd leave you with that cliffhanger, did you? Nope, I'm not mean like that...

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The sound of the bullet ricocheting was what brought his mind back into focus. She was still there, but there was a large nick in the floor just next to her, where the bullet had struck and bounced. Another sharp shrill laugh echoed throughout the room. "I had you going there, didn't I White Knight. Made you think I killed her, didn't I? You looked absolutely shattered."

He couldn't breathe, he tried to focus on catching his breath. She was quaking, shivering, scared. He had never seen her like this, he had seen her scared, but never before had she been faced with death, no other option but death. But either his imagination was playing tricks on him, or those sirens were getting closer. He just hoped that they would get here in time to save her.

"You love her, don't you White Knight? You love her and you'd do anything for her? I know that feeling. The feeling of being completely and totally whipped, willing to do anything for them because you're in love. Does she know it?" The gunman stared at her, and he fought to keep his eyes away, but he couldn't. She looked a little stunned at it. "I guess not. But it's true, isn't it?" It was.

But he couldn't admit it, not here, not now, not ever. She wasn't supposed to be his, he didn't deserve her, she belonged to Woody, the young man wasn't good enough for her either, but up until that afternoon he had made her happy, up until the detective had shattered her life, the man had made her happy. So he conceded her, happy to have her only as a friend, only to be her best friend, nothing else.

"Answer me White Knight, after all, what a more touching time to tell you feelings than right at the brink of death. You don't have to worry about rejection at least." It was a small consolation. "Go on, tell her. Tell her you love her." He swallowed, hard, not knowing where anything had come from, his mouth felt so dry. "Do it, or you won't get the chance to."

It was a sick, twisted way to get him to confess his feelings. But the gunman stood with the gun pressed to the back of her skull. "I-" He started, hoping to buy as much time as possible. "I-"

"Cat got your tongue, White Knight? It's only three words, you know you can say them."

"I love you." He finally choked out, the words harder to find than they should have been in this situation. The gunman laughed.

"Very good." He met her eyes, the fear in them seemed to have intensified, as she realized what had driven him to follow her here. That he hadn't come here just out of concern, but out of love, that all of his offers to tear her ex boyfriends limb from limb had come from his care for her, from his wanting to never see her hurt, and that every time he offered a shoulder for her to cry on it was because he wanted her, and that was as close as he got to her.

"Now the burning question, Dr. Cavanaugh, how do you feel for your White Knight here?" She didn't have to answer, he didn't care what the answer was, he knew she loved Woody. He didn't care that she loved Woody, he didn't care that she had given up her heart, but up until now he had his own self-preservation method intact, he kept her believing he was only a friend, and it had worked well. She was none the wiser, and he didn't have to worry about the way she would react.

She stayed silent. "Answer Dr. Cavanaugh. Or do you want to hear your White Knight scream for you again, the way he screamed that last time? It's such a pitiful sound." That's what that sound had been, it had been himself, screaming. "It's the sound of a heart breaking into a million pieces watching the one you love being torn from you."

"Why?" She asked softly and was rewarded by the shrill laugh.

"Why what?"

"I can see why you'd want to kill me, but why'd you kill him in the first place?" He tried to glare at her, why was she pulling stupid stunts at a time like this? Why was she doing things like this when they were on the brink of death?

"Because I know just how your White Knight feels, being in love and not being able to do anything about it. How long have you loved her?" What should he answer? The truth? The time he realized it? What would she want to hear, would she want to know that she had been leading him on for so long? Would she want to know that the special treatment he gave her came not from friendship, but from unrequited love?

Would she want to know that the offer he had made her, to work there at the mourge with him, had been because he didn't want to let her slip through his fingers, because he loved her and wanted to see her every day? "I asked you a question White Knight, how long have you loved her?"

"A-A decade." It felt humiliating to be answering these questions, especially in front of her, the woman in question. His brown eyes met her honey colored ones, and he could see her mind trying to process what he just said, the admittance that he had loved her pretty much from the moment he had seen her.

He knew his marriage had been over scarcely six months into it. He had known Maggie had been seeing other men, and that she had no intention of stopping. The only thing that kept them together was Abby, and even that wasn't something to keep them together more than nessicary. This time it was most definitely not his imagination that the sirens were approaching, growing closer every second.

"Hmm, looks like our fun was cut short. Anything you want to say, Dr. Cavanaugh, anything you want to tell your White Knight before you die?"

"You still haven't said why you killed him, why you killed Bill McCai." The shrill laugh was sending shivers down his spine, it was something that he knew was going to haunt him for eternity, in his nightmares, if the dead have nightmares. It was something he was never going to forget.

"Why? Why do you think? The woman I love chose him over me. When she had to make the choice, she chose him. You know this would have never happened if it wasn't for her, but you didn't have to die you know. You could have just accepted what my brother found, case closed, no one else would have to die, we'd all be happy." The man was circling around them, obviously debating which to kill first.

He hoped it would be him, he didn't want to see her actually die before him. Thinking she had died had been more than enough almost kill him on the spot without a bullet wound. He wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart and he fought the urge to smile at that, wondering what Nigel and Bug would make of it, someone dying of a broken heart.

"But I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you before the police come. So sad, so tragic. A man and his love, both killed, no one ever knowing his true feelings except for his beloved who will never get the chance to even give them a try. But Dr. Cavanaugh, you still haven't told us, how do you feel about your White Knight, the man who came in here to sacrifice himself for you. Do you love him the same way he loves you?"

She was silent, and while it hurt not to hear the words on her lips, even the one single word, it didn't matter. He knew that she didn't love him, it was just her admitting the truth, that she didn't love him, that she loved Woody. The shrill laugh rang out yet again. "How's this for tragic, she doesn't even love the man who sacrificed himself for her. How pitiful. How selfless of you White Knight. You know she doesn't love you, and yet you come here anyway." He felt the cold metal of the gun caress him with a touch that would be sensuous if not for the circumstances.

"So melodramatic. I think I may have to turn it into a novel while I'm waiting to die." He turned, circling them, stepping back a bit. "Now, I want to see both of your reactions as I kill you. See the look on both your faces. I want to know what to write, after all, it always helps to see the extreme pain, the anguish that'll cross your White Knight's face as you fall to the ground, lifeless and bloody."

Time seemed to freeze. It was as if things were going by in pause with someone hitting only the frame advance key, taking their time to make every second last an hour. The way that the gun was easily leveled at her head, ready for the trigger to be pulled. The door burst open long enough to break the gunman's concentration, enough for him to spring to his feet with an energy he hadn't known he possessed.

His only thought was to get her out of the path of the bullet. He saw the finger clench on the trigger and he dove forward, trying to push her out of the way, she had a stunned look in her eyes, the look of a deer in the headlights, so overcome by fear that she couldn't move.

So he moved her, he dove on top of her, trying to shove her to the side, not caring if he bruised her, bruised, broken bones, they all could mend, death could not. He connected with the floor as two more shots rang out. He hit the floor jarringly, covering her body with his own. His side was on fire as he hit the floor, he surely had broken something. But he looked down to see blood. Broken bones shouldn't bleed...

He heard the shrill laughter of the gunman and he felt blackness cloud the edges of his vision. "He's so selfless he willingly sacrificed himself even though she doesn't love him."

He looked up to see her, her face a mask of fear as blackness overcame his vision, the last thing he heard was a soft gentle voice going "No, I do."

* * *

A/N ...I'm downright evil. I warned y'all no reviews means cliffhangers. And well, I wasn't quite exactly fair with that, as it's only been up for two hours, but hey. I'll finish this up tomorrow morning. Night night. 


	5. Ending the First

A/N I have three endings written for this. This one is the "bad" ending, the one that I wanted to write just because, as Harry Potter HBP proved, sometimes the end isn't always happy, and sometimes people have to die in it, and well, I figured I might as well get the worst of the three out of the way. If you want things to come out happy and OK, I suggest you wait and skip this one, the other two will be out soon enough.

* * *

The whole area was gripped by a sudden silence. Time seemed to grind to a halt as the bitter realization of what happened gripped everyone there. There was a full minute where no one moved, no one spoke, things ground to a complete halt as what had just happened hit every single person there. It was a shrill laugh that brought everyone back to reality and in an instant there were ten guns all aimed at one man's head.

The gun he was holding fell to the floor. "No, I couldn't kill her now, even if I wanted to, her White Knight gave himself up for her, any romantic wouldn't kill someone after that, after someone makes the ultimate sacrifice for them." He laughed shrilly again as they took him away, locked his hands behind his back, and lead him off to the squad car.

No one wanted to near the woman sitting there, stunned into silence, everyone there who knew her knew that for her to be absolutely silent as she was that something was very very wrong. She was completely oblivious to the world around her, to the blood soaking through her clothing, to everything.

Finally one of the many stepped forward, and offered her hand to the woman, who took it, getting up, and the two walked outside into the pouring rain. The woman watched as the rain washed some of the blood from her clothes and as she watched the pink water wash down to the gutter she let out a violent sob, and the detective next to her simply let her cry, failing to hold back her own tears.

No one wanted to do what had to be done. No one wanted to make the call, no wanted to go near the body left lying there. Eventually one of the officers retreated back to his car, to place the call that would bring out the four left behind in all this, the four that hadn't been expecting it at all.

They arrived with grim silence, all of them, in the black van, meaning to just do their job, do what they had done to countless other people, they had done it so often they had learned to look past everything. But this time, they couldn't. They couldn't lift the body onto the stretcher, they couldn't stick it into the dark bag, couldn't zipper him away, couldn't do what they had done to so many others.

All that they were thinking were that it could have been them lying there. But it wasn't, it was him, it was the one who acted like he was a right bastard but who everyone knew had a heart of gold. The one that they had all loved and respected was now just another part of their job, the one that had taught them everything that they knew was now someone that they were using their expertise on.

It felt surreal, as if it shouldn't be happening. Everyone there moved with an ethereal quality about them, in a trance like state, doing what had to be done because it had to be done, not because they wanted to do it. They loaded the body onto a stretcher, and one of them started to zipper the bag, but couldn't, he got as far as the chest and stopped.

The wheeled the stretcher back to the van, and they all piled in, including the woman who was now drenched. She sat there, holding the limp hand, tears falling down her face, consoling arms wrapped around her, as the five of them all came to grips with what just happened.

They wheeled the stretcher back out and into the elevator, taking it up the nine floors before leaving it alone, leaving it for a lab tech, someone who wasn't quite as personally involved to take care of all that was left, the one thing that none of them could possibly do themselves.

And anyone who had walked by those glass double doors would have seen the woman sitting there, one cold, lifeless hand in hers plant a gentle kiss to the body's lips before zipping the bag over its head, and walking out, on the outside portraying strength but anyone who looked into those golden colored eyes would see nothing but pain and anguish.


	6. Ending the Second

A/N the "Casablanca" ending. The one that I wanted to write, but then the whole idea of Garret being dead got in the way. There is the Bubblegum ending as well on it's way when I get back from dinner. Then more of Watchdog, I promise!

* * *

He felt as if he were floating, as if he wasn't in contact with his body. He grinned, Nigel would love to hear about this, him, the king of all skeptics having what he assumed to be an out-of-body experience. But then it hit him that he would never talk to Nigel again, that he would never complain about the lanky Brit and the way he would constantly go off on tangents about the supernatural.

He was gone, he had to be, no one that was alive would be floating through a hospital. He could see himself, lying there on the table, all sorts of tube hanging off of him. A ventilator, that was never a good sign, IV's, doctors all around. He couldn't get close enough to see the heart monitor, but he knew what it would be reading. He was gone, he had to be.

And he had done it all for her. He had given up his life for her, willingly. Something that suburban prince would not do. He knew that the boy wonder would never take a bullet for her. He had, he had given his life for her, it wasn't his intention, he had only meant to knock her out of the way, he had only meant to shove her out of the path of the bullet, but he didn't regret it for a second.

He saw her there, standing back, letting the doctors work, a shocked look on her face, looking as if someone had just sucked her soul right out of her. Two men in her life, the two men that she trusted most had left her, and it gave him a horrible feeling. He had left her when she needed him most.

But if it came down to it having to be him or her, he would do it all over again, she had so much more to live for. She was still young, she had someone else to love her, she deserved to live more than he did, he already had lived most of what he wanted to. Sailing the Bahamas may have been something he never got to do, but he had loved, and lost, he had a child, he had a good job, he was happy with his job, he had his friends, he had been content with his life, he had lived a good life. She still had so much more life ahead of her.

He would take a bullet for anyone in the mourge, but she was the one it had come down to. She was the one that he had done it for. She was the one that he gave up his life willingly for. And she looked so lost, so broken, so shattered, the ballast to her ship at sea had all been let out, and she was tipping over, not just capsizing but completely turtling, in for a long, slow, recovery.

He wanted to comfort her, tell her that she still had people who loved her, that he wasn't the only one that loved her, that if Woody could see through his goddamn pride that he did too, that Nigel, and Bug, and Lilly all considered her family, that she wasn't alone in the world, that he wasn't the last one she had left.

But he couldn't. And she just stood there, leaning against the wall, watching him. He saw the others appear, Bug, Nigel, Lilly, Sydney, they all poured in, each one looking grave and grim. She hugged each one of them, and the five of them stood there, all watching, all with the same tense, unknowing look.

He saw the other one appear, the man that had started all this. The man who if he had abandoned his pride would have stopped all this. She would have spent her night at his bedside, and she would have never run off, and he would have never had to have followed her, and everything would be good. But no, here was the detective, wheeling himself down to stay with them.

He would have gloated to see her shrug off his touch, to move as far away from his as possible, but she needed him now, she needed someone to turn to and the suburban prince was just that, the man that she needed, the person she could turn to. He had to give the young man some credit, he did look genuinely concerned.

He was surprised to see her grin, along with the five others around her, and he felt something pulling on him, as if he was being yanked down to the table forcefully by the waist. Maybe he would get to tell Nigel about his out of body expierence after all, maybe the boy was on to something when it came to the supernatural. He just knew that he wouldn't be quite the total skeptic anymore and at least listen to what the boy had to say.

The next thing he knew, he found himself face up on a hospital bed, still with tubes coming out of him, he felt the IV pumping liquid through him, and there was the crowd around him. He saw her face looking down at him, relief written all over her. "hey." She said simply, and he couldn't speak, there was a tube down his throat to help him breathe.

A doctor appeared, pushing his way through. "Ah, Dr. Macy, you're supposed to be taking our patients away, not being one. You lost a lot of blood, but don't worry, we found most of it." He saw the faces around him contort at the young man's poor taste in jokes. "You'll be up and at em again in no time, don't worry, your most serious injury was your blood loss and a punctured lung, but aside from that, you got lucky. For someone who got shot three times, you'll be out by the end of the week. However, I am going to have to order some of these people out, one in here at a time, the man needs to rest. And I can take out that ET tube now that you're awake. Just cough for me."

He obliged and felt the piece of plastic come through his vocal chords, back out of his throat again. "Right, well, I'll be off, you guys take turns." The doctor left, and the crowd around him exchanged glances before five left with well wishes, leaving him alone with her.

Had she meant it? The last thing he had heard was her saying that she did, that she did love him, that what he had told her hadn't been entirely for naught. She leaned against the back of the chair, looking entirely spent. "You should sleep." He croaked, his throat raw from the tube, his chest hurting from where the bullet had pierced. She laughed, almost bitterly.

"So should you." She told him and he grinned.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be kept up." She laughed, this time with humor in it, such a welcome sound from the shrill laugh that would haunt his nightmares.

"We're all just making sure you're OK." He shrugged, wincing at the gesture.

"Aside from being shot, I'm not doing too bad, I don't think." She looked at him with an almost sad look.

"Did you mean that, what you said in there?" She asked him, and he met her golden eyes with his own brown ones and nodded.

"Not the best way to say it." He tried to make light of the situation.

"You did that-" she gently kissed one of the wounds, "For me?" Again, he nodded. "But you, you always try to find me dates-"

"Self-preservation."He told her with a shrug. "If you're happy with them, that's what matters." They lapsed into silence. "How's Woody? I saw him down here." She shrugged.

"He's still unsure about how he'll do." She seemed put off.

"Do you love him?" He asked and she looked at him, uncertainty in her eyes. He knew what she needed to make him happy, and he knew it wasn't him. She nodded.

"But-" He cut her off.

"He loves you, even if he lets his own pride get in the way, he does, as much as I don't want to admit it, he does." She smiled softly, sadly at him.

"But what about you, I mean, I do care about you, I-" He cut her off again, not wanting to hear what she had to say, he knew what it would be.

"I know you care, but I've never seen you happier than with Woody, I may not like doing it, but you belong with him."

"But you nearly died for me." He grinned as if it was nothing.

"He would do the same. And I would do it for Nigel, or Bug, or Lilly, or even Sydney. You're special, but not that special." She laughed and looked at the window where the aforementioned people were crowding.

"And I think they want to see you. But Garret-" She looked at him, whiskey eyes meeting chocolate. "I do love you." He grinned as she slid out of the room, allowing Lilly in. She loved him, that's what mattered, not if she loved Woody more, but he knew that she loved him as well.


	7. Ending the Third

A/N, this was the one that did not want to write itself out of the three-the first one wrote itself the easiest, then the second one, and now this one. Only because I promised three. :) May get one more one-shot in before I leave, depending on how late I stay up tonight.

* * *

He was awakened by the jostling making the pain in his side nearly unbearable. He groaned and opened his eyes to find himself staring at metal rivets, the inside of an ambulance. A face cut across his vision, one of the paramedics. He had seen the man before but he had no clue what his name was, he was just another man that dropped off the dead bodies.

"How you feeling doc?" The EMT asked him, and he shrugged slightly.

"Like I've been shot." The boy laughed.

"Sounds about right. Three times to be exact." He groaned again, as he shifted and hit one of the wounds. The EMT backed out of his field of vision and was replaced with another face, hers.

"You're not going to die on me, are you?" She asked, and he could see the worry on her face.

"No." He told her. She looked so scared, so downright terrified. "I'm not going to die." He told her, wishing it was true. The paramedics seemed to be doing a good job with him though. He wasn't going to die, he couldn't leave her alone in the world. She needed him.

She needed someone to lean on. She needed someone to love her, to hold her, to be with her, to stop her from collapsing on herself, she needed someone to be the ballast in her ship. And he was that person, the one that she counted on, that she depended on, that she turned to. And he wasn't going to stop being that person, he wasn't going to stop being at all.

"Good." She said, leaning over him, He felt her hand grasping his. "Don't die on me." She repeated. And he nodded.

"I'll try." He told her, grasping her hand tightly.

"You can't die, not now, not after-" She didn't say it, but he knew what she was referring to. Did it mean that she really did care for him, love him the same way she loved Woody? If she did, that was a reason to keep on fighting right there, a reason beyond all others.

He smiled at her, a sign of the way he was going to not back down. He wasn't going to leave without a fight, he was going to keep on going, keep on trucking as they say, if only because there was the chance that she loved him back. That was the only thing he needed to survive. It kept him going before, it was going to keep him going now.

He wasn't going to die. He was going to survive and love her, no matter what. Even if she went back to that farm boy, he was going to love her, if only because there was the chance that she loved him to. Not the chance, because she did love him. And he would keep fighting, if only for her.

They pulled up to the hospital, and she was forced to let go of him as they wheeled him inside, but she completely ignored the nurses telling her that she couldn't follow the stretcher, saying that she was a doctor too, and that she wasn't going to let anyone stop her. He smiled, that was his Jordan, that was the woman he loved, the fiery, all-others-be-damned woman who loved him.

The minutes that the doctors swarmed around him felt like hours as they sedated him, he knew what they were doing, he had gone through med school, he knew every little thing that would be done to him, and it comforted him as much as it scared him.

He saw her though, standing there, through the haze of the drugs, a worried look on her face. He wasn't going to die though, he couldn't. He was going to keep on going, he was going to keep on fighting, he wasn't going to go down, he couldn't die, just like he couldn't let her get hurt.

It was a long time before the doctors finally stepped away, leaving him alone, thinking him asleep. She sat down next to him, again, grasping his hand in hers. "I told you I wouldn't die." He said and she smiled, a bright smile of relief.

"Thank you." She said softly, relief etched into her face.

"For what?"

"For surviving." He grinned.

"All in the name of love." There was an uncertain look in her eyes as she bent over and gently kissed his forehead. "I love you." He said simply, the words easily rolled off his tongue even though he had bit them back for so long.

She was silent for a long time before she finally spoke. "I know." Was all she said, but he could see it in her eyes, she loved him, even if she wouldn't say it. And that was enough for him.


End file.
